It wasn’t the last time that I had felt trapped and enclosed by the metallic walls, but now it was accompanied by a sense of uneasiness- not fear, just that tight ball of stress and worry that manifested in the stomach. As soon as I was out of sight from the intermittently dotted security cameras, my nervous walk turned into a nervous almost-but-not-quite jog (I still had the necessary pride to restrain me from sprinting back into my room).

Each of the crew members has their specific sector, which is where all of their specialised equipment and facilities are housed, as well as their sleeping quarters. And as the ‘zookeeper’ of this crew, I got a little more leniency as to how my sector was designed seeing as I had some extra ‘guests’ that I had to accommodate in my area. Thus, when the fingerprint scanner flashed, and the doors opened, I was no longer entrapped in an environment of steel. A narrow wooden bridge extended over an expansive lake, which slowly dissolved into swampy marshland. Birds, fish and assorted smaller mammals swam and waded through the marsh environment, bringing relief from the steel-plated corridors and electrical equipment that was the backdrop for the rest of the ship. This was the one place that I could come to and just relax a little bit, even knowing that we were floating around in the blackyness of space. It also helped to understand that no other member of the crew could enter here without my expressed permission, thus making my area a refuge that I had often used to escape the verbal wars that my colleagues loved to have. Although this time the words were much harsher – probably not helped by the fact that it was about 12 am on the third last mission day.

Walking across the bridge, a cuboid object built from cement quickly broke the naturesque illusion that the zoo conjured up. There was only so much that whining and complaining to the designers could do, and I had already stretched the boundaries ‘naturalizing’ the environment ‘for the psyche of the animals’- not complete bullshit, but enough that I gained a lot of greasy looks from the budget and design centres of SPACCA.

With a press of my hand, a rectangular compartment of the cube depressed and slid to the side to reveal a regular office desk setup in one corner and a decent sized bed in the opposite. The floor, I managed to save from the horrid fate of the walls – as I managed to cover it in carpet- however, the smooth grey walls received no such love and affection, leaving them bare and… drab, if I had to pick a word.

Face planting in the bed as the door slid shut behind me, the scene of the meeting replayed over in my mind. It couldn’t be a joke from the technicians or anyone from SPACCA because the commander didn’t do jokes- ever. And it was also a bit morbid for a joke, especially since in the last 72 hours before a ship entered the earth’s orbit transmissions both outgoing and incoming were effectively blocked by the speeds that we were achieving- meaning we would not be able to check until we reached home. That left us with some issue with technology, or some sort of betrayal on the other side… or something worse. I threw myself onto the bed, face first, and tried to get some rest.

***

I woke up to Mason’s voice through the intercom, summoning me to his medical bay. I rubbed my eyes sleepily, unsure of how I had managed to have such a smooth transition to sleep after the events of only 6 hours ago. Getting up from my bed, I again gave my thanks for the invention of the grav-drive, allowing for simulated gravity upon this vessel. Astronauts used to have to sleep in sleeping bags attached to the wall so that they didn’t drift around the shuttle in days gone by. They also had to do an absurd amount of exercise each mission day to even begin to negate the effects of no gravity on their bones and muscles. Changing into fresher clothes out of the ones I hadn’t bothered to remove last night (oops) I set off to Mason’s sector.

His sector was a special one, even compared to the high tech gadgetry in all our specific domains. His allowed for a segment that was accessible by the rest of the crew, not just himself, as well as his own private section. The rest of our areas were strictly no-interference zones with regard to other crew members unless expressed permission by the owner.

After pressing my keycard to the door of Mason’s area, I was quickly greeted by the blinding sterile whiteness of the medical bay and sizeable circular window looking out into space. Mason was sitting in the middle of the room upon a fancy looking office chair, and as I entered he glanced up from his clipboard. Gesturing towards a chair that sat in front of his desk he kicked off the ground with his feet to send his chair spinning to sit opposite the desk , in front of his computer.

“How long did that take you?” I said with a smirk- because knowing Mason, that would be exactly what he would’ve dedicated his time to.

“Pure skill - But you wouldn’t be able to recognise that, would you?” he replied as he flipped his hand dismissively. “But in all seriousness – we have work to do.”

“Alright, what do you want me to do?” he was right, this wasn’t the time to stuff around.

Looking at me seriously he turned around his clipboard to reveal some nasty looking lines of paperwork, and in bold words, at the top, the words Statutory Declaration of Willingness to Participate were emboldened. This was shaping out to be a lovely mission day, a possible death, and then a dying will in the form of many lines of bureaucracy.

“This form”, Mace explained, “gives me permission to put you through the body scanner and then examine the results. Don’t worry; it also involves a non-disclosure agreement on my side of the contract.”

This was no time for embarrassment, and obviously it was some sort of protocol that Mace was directed to follow. Completely reasonable.

“You perv” I deadpanned, as I signed the sheet.

“I assure you- I will have seen worse. Now sign at the bottom and get your butt over to the machine in the corner”

The machine in question was a human-sized capsule that jutted out of the wall, obviously restricting the mechanics and readings to Mason’s private sector. As I stepped into the circular interior, the curved glass door that was previously hanging ajar closed itself and sealed the opening with a mechanical hiss.

***

After what seemed like an hour of cool green lights languidly traipsing across my body, the glass opened with a hiss and I stumbled out into Mason’s office. Blinking rapidly to try and recover my eyesight, I pulled myself back over to the chair and slumped down into it. Mason entered a few moments later, with a grimace on his face as he looked at a print out of what was apparently my results. Butterflies spawned into my stomach and started to multiply rapidly. This wasn’t good.

“I’m so sorry Oliver” he began.

The butterflies in my stomach turned up the tunes and began a rave. Oh shit.

“I’m going to have to retract my previous statement- I’ve never seen someone with a face as bad as yours.”

“Oh, you bastard. You absolute bastard. I’m going to hate you forever- you know that right?”

“Nah I’m too lovable to hate.”

“Just give me the results,” I said while grinding my teeth.

With a smirk that I so dearly wished I could wipe off his face with some sort of perfectly timed comeback, he threw his clipboard spinning onto his desk as he dropped into his chair.

“Completely fine mate. Which is why I thought I’d start with you- it’s high time we start learning who we can trust”

“But-” I started, only to be cut off with an upheld hand and a point at his computer screen. The screen displayed the exact same type of report that sat on his desk now, showing a status.

“Best case scenario,” he began again “We do the same thing three more times, and figure out the problem before we touch down on Earth.”

“Mmmm, I have no doubt that our perfectly functioning crew will all submit to this invasive scan and agree to the consequences if the scan turns up something other than clear.”

“Yeah look, I have a feeling that this ain’t happening either. So at least we know that the both of us can trust each other. Now we just need to figure out a way to clear the three others… without starting a massive throw-down.”

And there was the problem. It was pretty evident from the legal jargon in the statutory declaration that forcing people into the scanner wasn’t going to work. However, this was our only sure-fire way of clearing the other members, so we had to try to convince them in some other way… or did we?

“But do we really have to clear everyone?” I asked Mason speculatively.

“Of course we do- Don’t tell me you don’t remember the damned operation procedures on foreign contamination. Nothing steps-“

“Foot outside the shuttle before being cleared at least once- I know! But do we have to clear everyone?”

“No… not specifically us- what are you getting at Ollie?”

I looked down at my watch- breakfast time was only 10 minutes away.

“Let’s walk and talk- I may have an idea.”